The Way I Am
by Permanent Rose
Summary: Emma and Will have a lot to work through as they begin their relationship and take risks neither of them never dared to before. Little snippets of their budding relationship based on the April trailers.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I've decided to write a three chapter piece based on the Wemma moments from the various Glee promos. (If you haven't seen them, I've posted links to them on my profile) This one is based off the first one listed on my profile. Only one more week until we can see how accurate I am :D :D :D_

_I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think :)_

* * *

It was raining, and Emma looked sullenly out the window of her office at the wet weather, dreading the trek across the parking lot to her car.

She sighed, arranging her files once again in her bag. In the past fifteen minutes, she had taken them out of the bag a total of four times, first to arrange them by last name, then by first. Another glance at the muddy parking lot had prompted her to take them out for a third time to organize them by color. Now, she placed the last one in snugly, the largest of the folders, as she had decided to arrange them by size.

She bit her lip, fighting back tears, as she realized how ridiculous her behavior was. She gulped in a deep breath, trying to repress her heightened wave of anxiety. She knew, in reality, it was not about the folders, nor was it about the bleak rain.

She did not want to go home.

That was the reason she was back in her small pristine office, performing the job she had resigned from only a week before.

Principal Figgins had been more than glad to give her back her job, relieved even, seeing as it saved him from finding a replacement. Her voice sounding small and weak, she had thanked him, waiting for that feeling of relief to sweep over her.

But her stomach only had continued to twist in painful knots. A wave of panic shot through her as she battled internally for that control she sought in all aspects of her life.

She was scared.

She had finally admitted the undeniable truth to herself.

For once in her perfectly planned life, she did not know what to do next. She had quickly discovered that staying home, searching for a new job, was not the next step. The loneliness, the way she had severed herself from the rest of the world, only caused her anxiety to skyrocket.

She cleaned, but there was only so much cleaning that could be done around the immaculate apartment. She found herself pacing for hours at a time, her swirling thoughts consuming her. She lay in bed for hours, trying in vain to sleep, tying to bring her mind away from the hell she had created for herself. She showered more often than she even had before, rubbing frantically at her delicate skin with a bar of soap until it burned. She forgot to eat.

Going back was the only option, if she were going to somehow manage to hold herself together at the seams.

She hadn't talked to Will. They had exchanged cell numbers before Sectionals, and she had four missed calls from him already. Four missed calls and four new messages. She could not bring herself to listen to a single one of them.

It was ironic, she thought to herself, bitterly ironic, that she had spent the last two years of her life—the two short years she had worked at McKinley—fabricating ways to gain Will's attention and devising plans for when she did finally obtain it.

Now she had him at the tip of her fingers, and she was allowing him to slip away. All she ever wanted suddenly was not at all what she wanted anymore, not if it meant being the rebound. Not if it meant she had to take a risk. Not if it meant she might get hurt.

She had only been back at McKinley for two days now, and as carefully as she had devised ways to encounter Will more frequently before, she now sought precise measures to avoid him. Minor meetings had been inevitable, in which Emma had plastered a contented smile on her face, effectively hiding the turmoil that ate away at her beneath the surface. She did not want him to see how much this was hurting her.

He wanted to talk, though he did not blatantly say the words. Emma had become all too skilled at reading those warm brown eyes. But he was hurt and confused—hurt and confused that she had not picked up at his numerous calls, nor had she returned any of his messages.

Just like Emma, he was not about to throw himself recklessly into a position where he might get hurt any further.

Emma wondered how much longer either of them could go on like this.

She slung her bag over her shoulder, glanced at her office to assure that everything was in order, then left, padding softly down the empty corridor.

She reached the door, staring reproachfully at the puddles that spanned across the pavement. She cursed herself for leaving her umbrella tucked neatly under the passenger seat of her car. If only she had taken heed of the brewing storm clouds that had gathered in the sky earlier that morning.

"I could drop you off at your car if you'd like…"

The voice startled her, though she knew exactly who it belonged to the moment it reached her ears.

She stuttered hopelessly over her words, unable to catch his gaze."Will, um, well, that's very nice of you to offer, but um, I, um—"

"Emma." Her head shot up as soon as her name slipped from his lips. "It's just a quick drop off to your car—I'm not asking you to talk to me. I'm not asking for anything from you at all…" His voice wavered slightly over the last words.

Emma bit her lip, fighting not to lose control. Faked a smile. "Alright. Thanks, Will."

She watched him disappear into the downpour. She clutched her bag tightly, digging her nails into the soft material. He pulled up a moment later, and she quickly dashed out across short distance from the door to his car.

"Thanks, Will," she muttered, arranging her bag at her feet. She buckled in, despite the short distance, and took a moment to take in her surroundings.

His car was not sloppy, though it wasn't what she would consider neat. A few folders covered the backseat, and she was pleased to see that all of his trash had made it into the designated plastic bin. A minty air freshener hung from the mirror, mixing with the musky smell of his cologne.

"My pleasure," he replied, driving more slowly than necessary down the empty parking lot. Emma's car was one of three vehicles that remained.

She opened her mouth to tell him which one was hers, but he pulled up in the parking spot beside hers before she could utter a word.

He stopped the car, sighing as he leant back in his seat, his brow knitting as he pushed back the words he wanted to say.

Emma fidgeted, groping for her bag. Her hand rested on the door handle, but she could not make herself undo the latch.

"Emma." Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces as he uttered the simple word. She removed her hand from the door handle. "We need to talk."

She stiffened, biting her lip as she lifted her face to catch his gaze.

"I know you don't want to," the words spilled from his mouth. "And I know I said we wouldn't. But Emma, we can't keep brushing this to the side. I know you don't like it when things get messy. But Emma, sometimes it's okay to take the risk."

If only she could make him realize that it _wasn't _okay. She had spent so long trying to protect herself that she wasn't sure she knew how to emerge from her shell.

"I'm scared, Will," she finally whispered, her hushed words settling in the air around them.

"I know." He reached gently across the seat divider to take her hand in his. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared too. But I'm more afraid of not taking that risk. Of losing you."

The anxiety that had been weighing on Emma's chest subsided, though she knew it had no reason to. If anything, she should be more afraid then before, but with both their vulnerabilities exposed, Emma felt a little less alone. A little less scared.

"I don't want to go home," Emma barely registered the words until they had slipped from her lips.

"Then don't. Come back to my apartment with me—We can do a simple dinner together. Terri's moved in with her sister, so it's just me," he reassured her, and Emma could tell that he hoped he hadn't taken it too far.

Emma had always been one to take baby steps, and even though this simple invitation felt like a colossal leap, she took a deep breath as she answered. "I'd like that."

Though she hated to leave the comfort his car—the comfort of him, Emma pried open the door so she could follow Will back to his apartment in her own car. Will had offered to drive her back to McKinley to pick up her car after their dinner, but Emma had insisted that it would be ridiculous. They both knew she was right, but Emma could sense that Will was slightly frightened that she would bail if left to drive her own car.

"I'll follow right behind you," she assured him, draping her bag over her shoulder as she left the warmth of his car.

The cold, wet air left her shivering as she hurried over to the driver's seat of her car. She was surprised how at ease she felt as she started the car and followed him out of the parking lot. Was this all it took? Had her insufferable anxiety that had consumed her for the past few days all been for nothing? The comfort of Will was all she had needed.

Will's apartment was close by, and after parking, the pair silently made their way up to the third floor. Like his car, Will's apartment was not messy, but Emma could hardly call it neat. Subconsciously, she began to scout out what needed cleaning and how she would go about it.

"Make yourself comfortable," Will told her, pulling Emma's mind away from her obsessive thoughts. He took her coat from her and hung it next to his own.

She folded her hands gingerly in front of herself, trying not to feel oppressed by her surroundings. She felt uneasy in any place that had not been cleaned by her own hands. She caught Will's gaze, his soft eyes causing a wave of relaxation to wash over her. She allowed herself to relinquish some of her control.

She smiled, and a grin spread across Will's face in return. "Now there's the Emma I know."

She followed him into the kitchen, watching as he opened the fridge to rummage for something that would suffice as dinner. "We can have a salad. And I think I have some chicken. How does that sound?"

"A salad sounds great, but I, um, don't really, um, eat meat…" she trailed off, hoping she didn't sound too rude.

"Of course," Will muttered, looking embarrassed. "I'm sure I can find something else…"

"Oh, no, Will. You don't have to do that. I'm fine with just a salad and feel free to make yourself some chicken—I don't mind."

"Are you sure?"

Emma nodded fervently. "I'll even make the salad if you'd like."

The pair set out to prepare the simple meal. Conversation was light and easy as the two settled back into their old, comfortable friendship. When the dishes were done and put away, Will glanced nervously at the clock. Emma followed his gaze, twisting the dish rag in her hand as she waited for him to speak.

"I know it's a school night, but it's only six thirty. Would you want to stay for a little bit longer? Maybe watch a movie?" He looked up, running his tongue across his lips.

Emma took in a deep breath, trying to settle her swirling thoughts before she answered. She continued to fumble with the dish towel.

"Em, if you don't want to, don't feel pressured," Will quickly assured her, gently prying the dish rag from her anxious hands.

"No, I'll stay." She rubbed her empty fingers together, not seeming to fully register that the dish towel had been taken from her. "I'd love to stay."

Will smiled, but a look of concern shone through his eyes. "Would you like some popcorn?"

Emma nodded. "I'll, um, get some drinks for us," she offered, not wanting to feel useless.

Once in the living room, Emma sat down on the couch as Will rummaged through a cabinet of movies. "What would you like to watch?" he asked her, scanning the titles.

"Gosh, um, I'm not sure…anything's fine."

He continued to search. Emma sucked in a breath, wondering if she should break the silence.

"Aha!" Will exclaimed before she could make up her mind. "I've found the perfect one—my favorite. Singin' in the Rain. Perfect for this terrible weather we've been having."

Emma chuckled lightly, feeling slightly more at ease. "I like that one a lot, too."

"Great." Will smiled, placing the DVD into the player, then sat down beside Emma as the screen flickered to life in front of them.

As the opening credits rolled on, Emma felt Will's hand slid into hers. She left it, the warmth of his skin putting her at ease. As she watched the screen, barely registering what she saw, she felt Will's eyes rest on her rather than on the television.

She stole a glance at him, and when he did not turn away, she muttered, "What?" She glanced at him through her thick lashes, her already large eyes seeming to widen even more.

Will blushed, squeezing her hand gently. "You're beautiful."

Emma had not been expecting such blunt words, but she felt her cheeks flush with pleasure as he continued to gaze at her. The movie was forgotten as Will took his free hand and cupped her chin gently.

Emma's breath hitched slightly as his head neared hers. She closed her eyes as she felt his sweet breath fan across her face.

His lips came down on hers, tentatively at first. Emma kept her eyes closed, her heart rate accelerating as the kiss became more urgent. His hand slid up her cheek until his fingers laced through her hair.

Emma thoughts tumbled. She tried to separate her logical thoughts from her feelings of desire. It felt too right, to be here with Will, to be kissing him like she had always fantasized. And that bothered Emma. That some so wrong, that something that had always been so forbidden, could suddenly feel so right. Emma pulled back, grounding her hands onto the cushion of the couch as she turned her face away.

Will abruptly pulled away, glancing at her quizzically. "Is everything okay?" His warm breath ricocheted off her cheek.

"I think it's a little weird for me—making out in a space that you shared with her. You know, a place you made a fake baby in," the words tumbled awkwardly from her mouth as she tried to convey her uneasy thoughts into words.

Will sighed, blowing a stream of steady air out from his pursed lips. He leant back against the couch, turning to look at Emma. Her fiery red hair spilled across her face, shielding her eyes from his.

She peaked at him through her veil of hair, waiting for him to speak. When he did not, she took the initiative to speak first. "Will, I'm sorry. Gosh, I didn't mean to bring up, you know, the fake pregnancy. Will, I—"

He cut her off. "Come here, Em." He opened his arms, beckoning her to him.

She stared at him, unsure of how to react. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

"Come on," he urged her, and once again, she tried to read his expression.

Hesitantly, she crawled into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder. His arms closed around, his hands straying to her back as he began to rub it gently. She relaxed against him. Desire was slowly begin to win.

"You're—you're not mad at me?" Her voice came out in a small squeak. She wished she could see his face, but she didn't dare move out of his embrace.

He pulled back so her could look her in the eye as her spoke. He sucked in a deep breath before speaking. "Emma, I'm not mad at you. Sure, I'm a little frustrated, but this isn't going to be smooth sailing. Not with what both of us have been through—not with what we're both going through now. And I can understand that, but that doesn't make me want this any less. And I know it's not going to be easy for you to be here. It's not easy for me either—finding articles of clothing or a book she left behind, constantly reminding me of what I lost—of the pain she put me through." He shuttered slightly, and Emma buried her face deeper into his neck, listening to the uneven beat of his breathing. "But Emma, we can't let that win—we can't let the memory of her win. And Emma, I'm not mad because I want you to be able to tell me how you're feeling—if something's making you uncomfortable or scared, I want us to be able to talk about it, just like you told me now. We both need to be able to talk about these things instead of brushing them to the side."

She relaxed against him, and she felt his muscles unclench as he held her closer to him. "Thanks, Will," she whispered, lifting her small fingers as she absentmindedly began to play with the collar of his shirt. She could've spoken more, giving him the same confirmation, the same reassurance he had just given her, but instead, she snuggled deeper into his lap and entwined her hand with his. And she knew, for now, that was enough.

They shifted to face the movie. Gene Kelly's character strolled down the street in the pouring rain without the protection of his umbrella, singing the song that had given the movie its title. With Will singing the lyrics softly in her ear, Emma found herself losing interest in the movie once again.

It was hard for Emma not to think about all the memories Will and Terri had shared in this very apartment, but just as Will had said, they were just memories. Memories were strong, but Emma was determined not to let them win. After all, Will was all she had ever wanted, and she had finally decided she was not going to let him slip through her fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback. You guys rock. _

_This is based off the one millisecond of Will and Emma in the second promo posted on my profile--the one where Emma is in Will's bedroom in a purple nightgown ^_^ Hopefully that stirred up some excitement :P_

_Oh, and the title **The Way I Am**, comes from an Ingrid Michaelson song with the same title, just in case you were curious ;)_

_I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

They had been "dating" for almost a month now, though Emma still insisted on using the term lightly. The divorce had yet to be finalized, and Emma was hesitant to take anything too far.

Will hardly recognized his own apartment anymore. Each weekend, Emma had decided to tackle a cleaning project around the house, despite Will's protests. He felt awkward having her clean his house, especially when she did not officially live there, though she had begun to spent more and more time at his apartment.

The first weekend had been the kitchen. She had dug up the sparse cleaning supplies she could find around the house, rolled up the sleeves to her blouse, and still clad in the pencil skirt and pumps she had donned for her afternoon visit, she passionately threw herself into the task, cleaning areas that Will would not have even thought to wash.

He offered to help, but Emma had shoed him away, insisting that it wasn't necessary. He didn't quite know what to do—he felt rude leaving as she cleaned _his _house, but he also knew he was getting underfoot as he stood awkwardly in the kitchen, trying to make small talk as Emma cleaned. But Emma soon found a way for him to help—his lack of cleaning supplies was pathetic, so she wrote up a very specific list of some items she would like him to pick up at the store, if he didn't mind.

She looked so desperate—and a little crazy, he decided, bent over his kitchen floor with a pair of yellow gloves that reached elbows, scrubbing the same tile she had been viciously attacking with a sponge for the past five minutes. So he complied.

He was slightly annoyed. He had planned on spending a relaxing Saturday afternoon with her, perhaps watching a movie, or just cuddling on the couch—which Emma was becoming more comfortable with, as long as Will continued to take things slowly.

But Emma apparently had different plans. After a small lunch, Emma had asked him, in a small voice, if he minded if she cleaned the kitchen a bit before going on with their afternoon plans. Will, accustomed to her cleaning habits, agreed to her request, thinking that she only meant to sanitize the counter tops and possibly mop the floor. "A bit," to Will, did not mean scouring the entire kitchen, including the refrigerator, cabinets, and corners that no one ever bothered to look at.

It took him a good hour to find all the supplies Emma had demanded at the local convenience store, and when he returned, he was shocked to see the state of his kitchen. Emma had pulled _everything _out of the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets. The heavy scent of bleach and other cleaning products hung thickly in the air, and Will's eyes watered as he entered the kitchen.

"Em, is this really necessary?" Will coughed as the chemicals from the air entered his lungs. He wondered how Emma could live like this on a daily basis.

She pulled her head out of the fridge, and Will couldn't help but to think how beautiful she looked. He cheeks were slightly flushed for the exertion of her effort, and her normally perfect hair was beginning to lose its shape at it fanned out around her shoulders, giving her an edgier look.

Will smiled. It was impossible to stay frustrated at her.

"I'm almost done," she promised, attempting to blow her flyaway hair from her face. Her hair stubbornly rested in front of her eyes, and Will could tell that she was not about to use her gloved hands, which were covered in a layer of grime (was there really _that _much hidden dirt in his kitchen?) to touch her hair.

Gently, he brought his own hand to her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. A smile crept onto her face.

"Thanks, Will."

He pressed his lips lightly to her forehead. Her usual scent of vanilla perfume was masked by the heavy odor of bleach.

"So did you get everything?" she asked, hopefully glancing at the bag.

"I think so," he told her. "I hope I got the right brands." He cleared a spot on the cluttered counter top and arranged the products he had purchased.

Emma's eyes lit up like a small child's on Christmas morning as Will presented the products to her. "Perfect," she told him, pecking him affectionately on the cheek. "I'll be done soon—why do you go set up a movie for us in the other room?"

Will gladly complied. The next morning, it took him half an hour to prepare breakfast because Emma had completely rearranged everything in the fridge and the cabinets. But as soon as he remembered the sweet kisses they had shared the previous afternoon, he decided it was all worth it.

He was more prepared, the next week, when she offered to do the bathroom and hardly found himself surprised when she had rearranged his hair products and cologne and given his toothbrush a new home. And the following week, she insisted that the living room needed a good cleaning. When she had discovered he did not own a simple Swiffer sweeper, she had immediately sent Will to the store for one.

By the time he got back, Will did a double take, fearing that he had entered the wrong apartment. The couch was moved to the opposite side of the room, the television set was slanted in the opposite direction, and all of the lamps and wall decorations were placed in a different location.

"Do you like it?" Emma asked tentatively, shifting from foot to foot. This week, she had come prepared. She had her crimson locks pulled back with an emerald green headband. She wore a simple green fitted tee, much different than the elaborate blouses Will had grown accustomed to seeing her in. And she was wearing pants, the biggest shock, seeing as Will had never seen her in a pair. The dark blue jeans hugged her slender legs, and though he found her to be attractive in her skirts, he thought she looked particularly sexy in her skinny jeans.

He looked at her expectant eyes and then at the rearranged room—the room that had remained the same for the past five years. "I do like it," he finally told her. "I think it was definitely time for a change."

And the smile she gave him in return definitely made it worth it.

The next day when Emma stopped by for dinner, she came with new throw pillows for the couch that she had purchased the night before. Will told her she was crazy. Emma told Will that they matched the décor much better.

Will couldn't argue with that.

Now, with the fourth week of their unofficial dating approaching, Will was prepared to wait through a crazy cleaning project before he could have her to himself for cuddly afternoon.

"So what will you be cleaning this week?" Will asked as he opened the door for Emma. Like last week, she wore a pair of jeans, though pink seemed to be the theme this week instead of green. She wore a pink tank top, considering the warming weather, that accentuated her curves. Her ginger locks were pulled back into a pony tail, yet another new look that Will had not seen on Emma. A plush magenta rose was pinned to her hair tie, and Will found the look to be endearing.

The only rooms left in the small apartment were Will's bedroom—which Emma had tactfully avoided, and Terri's cluttered craft room, which Terri had promised to come and clear out ages ago.

"What makes you think I'm going to clean something?" Emma teased him, blushing as she gladly greeted him with an embrace.

Will chuckled. When Emma pulled away, he watched as she scoped out the apartment.

"Is this your guest room?" she asked innocently, prying open the door to Terri's craft room.

"Well, um, sort of." Will watched as she opened the door to the cluttered room, her eyes grow wide with shock at the great mess contained in such a small area. "It was Terri's craft room. We used it for storage as well." He motioned toward the piles of boxes stacked sporadically throughout the room.

"Oh," she muttered, slowly backing out of the room.

"But Emma, if any room in the house needs a good cleaning, it's this one. In fact, I've been meaning to sift through a lot of this junk. If you don't feel too awkward, we can, you know, maybe clean it up together," he offered, stumbling over his words.

He expected her to abandon the cleaning project all together or tell him that she'd rather clean it by herself, so he was surprised when she agreed.

Five hours and three giant bags of trash later, the room was cleared out, except for Terri's craft and decorating supplies, which Emma had neatly compacted into three boxes, one giant box that fit Will's few holiday decorations, and one small box—the few keep sakes Will had found of his own in the room.

Will was surprised that the tedious cleaning project was not nearly as boring as he had thought it would be. In fact, he had enjoyed himself. He and Emma had laughed as they sifted through old pictures and yearbooks, which contained pictures of Will in the Glee Club with mustaches and obscene words written on his face. At one point, he had dumped an empty box of packaging peanuts on Emma's head, causing her to shriek in mock horror. She had in turn sprayed him with carpet cleaner, just missing his eyes, and hours later, he still smelled faintly of the cleaning product.

They had stopped for a late lunch break—peanut butter sandwiches. (Emma had finally unearthed the peanut butter Will had been searching for during the last few weeks, and he insisted that she was going to have to give him a tour of the kitchen one of these days.)

Emma had wanted to get back to work immediately after lunch, but Will, taking advantage of both their playful moods, had picked up her small form and carried a shrieking Emma to the couch, falling against the cushions with Emma's tiny body on top of his.

She had been the one to initiate the kissing, which surprised Will, seeing as she was usually the hesitant and passive one when it came to their physical relationship. Just as the pair was really beginning to get into it, the phone rang, causing them both to jump and break apart.

After that, they resumed the cleaning project, the last few hours of the project uneventful. It was approaching eight o'clock as they finished, stacking the few remaining boxes in the far corner of the room.

Will looked pleased, and for a moment, he realized how Emma must've felt every time she put her heart and soul into a cleaning project. "Well, I guess that's it," Will stated, already edging toward the door. He was ravenous once again, and he had begun to make dinner plans in his head, which included an old bottle of wine he had been saving for quite some time now.

"Wait," Emma told him, scrutinizing the room. She walked over to the opposite wall, pointing to three splotches of paint on top of the cream colored paint that the rest of the walls were painted.

"Oh, that's, uh, just some of the colors we were thinking about painting the—the baby's room," Will's voice cracked slightly on the last word.

Emma began to fiddle with the hem of her shirt. "Do you have some paint then?" she asked him, fingering the strokes of pink, purple, and pale yellow.

"What color?" Will asked, shocked that Emma was actually offering to go as far as to paint the room.

"Oh, any color," Emma said, sounding nonchalant. "Just anything to cover…that…"

And it was then that he finally realized what she was doing.

"You're trying to erase her, aren't you? By cleaning and changing everything, you're trying to make it like she was never even here…" he accused her, trailing off.

Emma jerked her head up, he eyes growing wide with guilt as she realized she had been caught in the act. It was so obvious now that Will thought about it. He had attributed her cleaning to her quirky fetish of needing everything to be immaculate, which Will did not doubt was a part of this outlandish cleaning project, but he now saw that had a much stronger motive as well.

"I thought we agreed that we'd talk about this…" Will said weakly, a look of betrayal crossing his face.

Emma's face crumbled, and Will was afraid she was going to lose it, but she took in a deep breath, composing herself as she whispered, "It didn't start out that way. Not with the kitchen—it honestly just made me feel better about eating the food, um, you know, because I had cleaned the kitchen with my own hands…" she trailed off, giving Will a look as though she hoped she hadn't offended him. When he didn't speak, she continued. "And, um, well, I just got a little obsessive after that, cleaning everything to the point where I knew I wouldn't be able to stop. When I got to the living room, I just kind of got it in my head that I could, um, you know, well—change how everything looked, and maybe, you know, make it seem like she had never been here…"

She shrunk away from him, and it took him a moment to realize he had been glaring at her. Before, he couldn't have imagined ever being angry with her, but he hadn't imagined she betray his trust so early on in their relationship. Though she had not blatantly lied to him, she had been hiding this from him, using her mysophobia to cover up what she was truly feeling. And he hated to think what else she'd be capable of hiding from him in the future.

"I'm sorry, Will," she pleaded with him, tears beginning to spill from her large brown eyes.

All too quickly, his heart softened, and he gathered her shaking form in his arms. "Why, Em?" was all he could manage to ask. "Why couldn't you just tell me?"

She spoke into his shirt, unable to lift her gaze to look him in the eye. "Everything was going so well—you were so happy, and I—I guess I just didn't want to bring it up and ruin everything."

"Emma, please don't _ever _feel like you can't tell me something. I want us to be able to talk about anything and everything," he took in a deep breath before continuing. "Terri and I hardly talked—and I know a lot of what happened earlier this year could've been prevented if we had been able to talk about our insecurities. And Em, I'm not comparing this to what Terri did at all, but I just want you to know that you _never _have to feel like you need to hide something from me. You will always be enough for me—insecurities and all."

Emma was sobbing now, her small body trembling terribly against his. He gently slid his back down the wall of the empty room so he could hold her in his lap.

"I'm so, so sorry," she wailed, her tears soaking into the color of his shirt.

"I know, Em. I know," he soothed, lifting her shirt gently to rub circles on her back.

Finally, her tears began to subside. Her breathing steadied, beating softly against the bare skin of Will's neck. "You're too good to me," she whispered.

"Hey," he told her, lifting his chin to meet her gaze. "Don't beat yourself up." She sniffled but didn't take her gaze off him. He brushed his lips softly against hers. "I love you."

It was the first time either of them had said the words. He watched Emma's eyes widen, first with shock, then with an admiration as deep as love he had for her.

"I love you, too," she whispered back.

He kissed her for a moment longer before his stomach rumbled loudly. They headed for the kitchen, fingers entwined. As they prepared the meal, they shared stolen kisses, unable to contain their physical impulses.

Slightly buzzed from the wine Will had dug out for the two of them, they did the dishes—something Emma forbid to leave until the morning.

"How about a movie?" Will asked, disregarding the late hour. It was Saturday, so they didn't need to worry about school in the morning.

Emma yawned, but nodded. He put in Gone With the Wind—they were slowly working their way through the classics—and pulled Emma into his lap. She yawned again, gladly snuggling against him.

He kissed her for a while, but she could hardly even muster the energy for that. Before the movie was even halfway over, Emma was fast asleep in his arms.

He didn't remember dozing off, but the fuzzy glare of the screen woke him, and he realized he had been asleep for much longer than he realized. Emma remained fast asleep, and he managed to reach the remote and turn off the television without waking her. He pulled her closer to him, and she stirred slightly in her sleep but didn't wake.

He kissed her bare shoulder gently as a lovely drowsiness swept over him. With her warm body pressed closely to his, he drifted off into pleasant slumber.

"Will!"

Her shrill utterance of his name pulled him quickly into consciousness.

"Em? What is it? Is everything okay?" He sat up, realizing that Emma was standing above him. From the soft glow of the moonlight, he could tell her eyes were wide with fear.

"I—I need to go home. It's so late, and—and—" She suddenly burst into tears, and momentarily, Will was at a loss at what to do next.

He soon composed himself, standing to wrap his arms around her shaking form. "What is it, Em? What's bugging you?"

She took in a shaky breath, but tears still lined her voice as she spoke. "I'm still in these cl-clothes—I n-never sleep in my clothes, and I-I didn't even get to shower, an-and—"

"Shh, Em," he soothed, stroking her tangled hair. "It's late—why don't you just stay here? You can even go use my shower, and I'll dig up something clean for you to wear, okay?" He desperately searched for a solution that wouldn't entail her driving all over creation at three o'clock in the morning.

"Okay," she sniffled, finally allowing herself to relax.

While she showered, Will searched the room for something suitable for Emma to wear. He had settled on one of his over sized t-shirts when he saw a corner of purple sticking out from the chest at the foot of his bed. He pulled out a lavender nightgown—unworn with the tags still, and smiled. It was perfect.

A moment later, he heard a soft knock on his door. Emma entered the room, holding only a bath towel around her body. She smiled tentatively at him, blushing deeply.

"Here." He held the nightgown out toward her. She stiffened slightly, and Will knew that she was hesitant to wear something that had been Terri's. "It's never been worn—her sister got it for her years ago. It didn't fit and she never got around to returning it. You can wear one of my shirts if you don't feel comfortable wearing it, but I have a feeling this will fit you perfectly."

"I'll try it," she offered, holding her towel up with one hand while reaching for the nightgown with the other. "Oh, and would you mind if I use your washer to wash my clothes for tomorrow?"

"Go right ahead—it's about time that thing got some use," he chuckled, and Emma rolled her eyes, strutting dramatically out of the room. About ten minutes later, she returned, looking damp and sleepy.

Will had been right—the nightgown fit her perfectly, and he found himself ogling at her body beneath the flimsy material.

"You're beautiful," he muttered, taking her hands gently in his. She blushed, her hair falling in front of her face. "I especially like your hair."

Emma snorted. "It's a mess, but I decided it was probably best not to style it at three in the morning—though I did notice that Terri left an extra blow dryer behind."

"Oh, that's mine," Will told her, watching her eyes widen in shock. "I'm just kidding, Em—take a joke. But really, I like it—I didn't know it naturally curled like this." He twirled one of red ringlets between his fingers. The color of her cheeks deepened.

"Ready for bed?" Will asked, pulling Emma into his arms.

"Define bed—because if you expect things to get steamy, then I may only last a few seconds before passing out." Despite her sarcastic tone, the pair blushed. This was the first time Emma had spent the night, and even their make out sessions had been kept fairly chaste.

"We'll just have to wait for another night," Will joined the joke, though a part of him hoped that it could become a reality in the near future. "For what I have planned, we're definitely going to need to start earlier in the evening."

Emma laughed, but her cheeks only flushed deeper at his words. Will reached to turn out the light, engulfing the room in darkness. Emma snuggled against him as he pulled the covers around them. He hummed softly in her ear—a nameless tune that even he wasn't sure where he had learned it, listening to her breathing become slow and steady.

"I love you," she whispered softly, surprising Will, who thought she had already fallen asleep.

He pulled her closer to him, resting his lips in her hair. "I love you, too—so, so much."

* * *

_A/N: I know, you guys were probably expecting some epic duet between the two, but I was too lazy to find the perfect song for them, and to be honest, I'm terrible at including songs in my stories (I know, how terrible for someone who writes for a musical show :P) But I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. _

_For the next chapter, I plan to center it around the line Will says, __"There are so many things you don't know about me, and I can't wait to introduce them all to you." Basically, I want to choose about five quirky/cute things that Emma doesn't know about Will---but I need some help coming up with those. So I would love, love, love some suggestions. _

_Thanks!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Here's the last chapter--I'm quite proud of myself for getting it uploaded before Tuesday! _

_Like I said last chapter, this whole chapter is based off the line, __"There are so many things you don't know about me, and I can't wait to introduce them all to you," said by Will to Emma. Instead of choosing five quirky/cute things about Will, I only did three because I discovered I am not capable of writing a 300-500 word drabble as I planned for each one. Instead, they are all close to 1000 words and I just didn't have time to do five of those. Thanks to everyone who suggested a quirk for Will. Stephy-Lou Clark-Weasley and The Duchessina will see that I used some of their ideas, so thanks guys!_

_I hope you enjoy, and look out for more Wemma fics in the future!_

* * *

_He sang in the shower_

She couldn't really say when she had moved in with Will. It happened, gradually, until one day, all of her clothes were hung neatly in the closet beside Will's. Her tooth brush now made its home on the opposite side of the sink of Will's, and mixed among his hair products and his cologne were her own face washes, soaps, and perfumes.

They shared a bed, and as queer as it would've been to any other couple living together, sleeping together—in the purest definition of sleep—was all they did together. They had gotten close to crossing the line several times, but Emma would always end it in a state of panic, and it would turn into yet another night of innocent cuddling.

They developed an unofficial schedule for the mornings. Emma always got the bathroom first. She woke up almost a whole hour before Will to begin her tedious regimen. Shower, brush teeth, wash face, put on make up, style hair, and then back to the room to dress just as Will stumbled into the bathroom to take his five minute shower.

Even on weekends, Emma was always up before Will. Showering, as always, was first on her agenda, but on the weekends, she dressed more casually, left her hair to naturally curl, and put on minimal makeup. Instead, she spent her time preparing breakfast, a luxury the busy couple hardly had time to squeeze in during the school week.

This particular morning, Emma woke to the bright blare of sunlight spilling through the window onto the bed. She squinted as she sat up, surprised when she realized Will was not in bed beside her. She glanced toward the clock, her heart skipping a beat when she realized it was almost ten thirty. She never slept this late.

The events from the night before slowly came back to here. They had stayed up late watching a movie, and Emma had drunk more wine than she was typically used to. In fact, she could hardly remember watching the second half of the movie or even putting on the white patterned nightgown she was currently wearing.

She had not had enough to drink to inflict a hangover—only enough to muddle her mind and make her sleep more deeply. In fact, she felt surprisingly refreshed as she climbed out of bed.

Today was a sheet changing day, she reminded herself. It was an agreement she and Will had come to after he discovered she changed her sheets everyday. Sheets just weren't durable enough to last for a while with constant washing, and Emma did sheepishly admit she replaced her sheets quite often. Will thought it was reasonable to change them once a week, so they settled on every three days, which Emma was surprisingly dealing with quite well.

Her bladder was annoying full, so nature's call came before the sheets. But as she walked down the hall toward the bathroom, she heard a steady stream of water on the opposite side of the door. Will had beaten her to the bathroom this morning.

He couldn't be too much longer, Emma told herself, trying to ignore her full bladder. To keep her mind off it, she decided to get a simple breakfast started. But as she entered the kitchen, she realized Will had beaten her to it. The table was set for two with a pitcher of orange juice and a plate of steaming pancakes placed in the center. Even the dishes were washed and placed neatly back into the cabinets.

Emma couldn't help but to grin. Will had certainly been busy this morning.

Will was still in the shower when she walked back toward the bedroom. The overwhelming urge to relieve her bladder was becoming increasingly uncomfortable—so uncomfortable that she couldn't even bring herself to begin to change the bed.

Though she knew she hardly waited for even a minute, it felt like an eternity to her desperate bladder. Finally, she could bear it no longer. She hurried down the hall, knocking hesitantly at the bathroom door.

No answer.

When she knocked for a second time and still received no answer, she decided she was too desperate to worry about being polite. Luckily, he hadn't locked the door, so she pried it open, stepping into the steamy bathroom.

"When I'm walking beside her, people tell me I'm lucky," Will sang, belting out the lyrics to The Beatles Song. "Yes, I know I'm a lucky guy. I remember the first time I was lonely without her. Can't stop thinking about her now."

"Every little thing she does, she does for me, yeah," Emma joined him as he reached the refrain.

His voice faded, and she heard some shuffling behind the curtain. A moment later, he poked his dripping head out from behind the curtain, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, looking at Emma standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Come to kick me out?"

"Actually," she mumbled, shifting from foot to foot as she fought to control her bladder, "just using the toilet would be nice."

Will laughed. "Well, let me give you some privacy." He courteously pulled his head back behind the shower curtain.

Emma gladly hurried to the toilet, hardly caring that she usually preferred to take care of her bodily functions in complete privacy. As she washed her hands, the showered stopped.

"Mind handing me towel, Em?" Will asked, sounding casual.

Emma blushed as she fumbled with a towel from the rack, and the color of her cheeks only deepened as Will stepped out of the shower with the towel wrapped loosely around his waist.

"Well, the bathroom's all yours," he told her as he stepped over the threshold. "Think you could make it a quick shower today? I made breakfast, and it's probably already getting cold."

This morning had already been completely unconventional according to Emma's standards, and she knew she should take comfort in a shower, but instead, she dared to go out a limb. "You know, I think I'll, um, skip the shower for now. Let's see how quickly you can get dressed—those pancakes are only getting colder."

Will looked slightly shocked at her sudden easy going attitude, but instead of questioning it, he took advantage of her rare spontaneous mood. "I bet I could throw something on in less than a minute."

"You're on the clock," she told him, liking the freedom she allowed herself to have this morning.

"A minute and five seconds," she told him as he entered the kitchen. "You're going to need to work on that one."

He chuckled, kissing her softly before sitting down opposite of her. He began dishing out the pancakes.

"You know," Emma told him, munching on her plain pancake contently, "I can't remember the last time I ate breakfast in my pajamas."

"Well, we just might have to make a habit of it," Will told her. "Saturday's can be our new breakfast in pajamas day. Remind me not to shower next time."

Emma laughed, "But then I can't listen to you sing!"

"Hmm," Will said thoughtfully. "Would you be opposed to me putting my pajamas back on after I shower then?"

Emma grinned at him. She could get used to these unconventional Saturday mornings.

* * *

_He drank milk straight out of the carton_

Emma had many pet peeves about people's sanitary habits. The way people lived often had her cringing, and though her life of solitude could hardly be considered a life, she was at least glad that she didn't have to put up with people's bad habits on a daily basis.

She was glad to discover that Will was fairly good when it came to hygienic habits. She hardly ever found his laundry on the floor, and when she had flipped out after finding a dirty sock left in the bathroom, she had not found another one since. He always replaced the cap on the toothpaste tub, and he never left his bubbly spit in the sink after brushing. She was pleased to discover the toilet seat was never left lifted when she needed to use the bathroom, and he never left the dishes undone after a meal, which was easily one of Emma's greatest pet peeves.

It was Wednesday morning, and this was easily one of the busiest days of the week for the pair. It was the only day of the week that the SAT prep course and Glee practice fell on the same day, so the pair was always in a rush these mornings to make sure they were prepared for their after school commitments.

They were already behind this morning. Though they had gotten better about sharing the bathroom, it also came with consequences. Emma had ended up with a glob of toothpaste on her perfectly pressed blouse while brushing quickly past Will standing at the sink. Though Will tried to convince her that all she needed to do was change her blouse, Emma insisted on another shower (thankfully pinning back her hair so she didn't need to go through will the tedious styling process again as well).

Now she hurried into the kitchen, wearing a completely new outfit—a white pencil skirt with a pink sweater, pink pumps, and a rose brooch. Breakfast was rushed on normal days, so today was even tighter. She grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet that she would eat during first period (eating in the car was a big no-no). Will joined her in the kitchen a moment later, hurriedly rummaging through the fridge. He pulled out the lunches Emma had packed the night before, then a carton of two percent milk.

And he drank it straight from the carton.

Emma's eyes widened in horror at the unsanitary display before her. "Will!" she practically shrieked. "_What _do you think you're doing?"

Will stopped mid-gulp, looking guilty as he lowed the carton from his lips.

"How often do you do that?" she practically groaned, watching Will lick his milk mustache away.

Will shrugged, replacing the carton back on the fridge. "Em, it's not the end of the world. Besides, that's my milk. I can promise you I've _never _touched your soy milk."

"Will, that's beside the point," Emma hyperventilated slightly. "That's a _disgusting _habit. You had better not do that with any of the other drinks in our fridge."

Will lifted his hands up in defense. "I promise, it's only _my _milk I do it with. And if it will make you stop freaking out, I can promise you I'll get a cup next time."

They didn't have anymore time to argue; they were probably already going to be late as it was. Since their after school activities ended at different times, they took separate cars to school on Wednesdays. Their busy schedules prevented the couple from crossing paths the entire day; Emma even had a guidance appointment scheduled for their typical lunch period, so it wasn't until the exhausted pair stumbled into the apartment after a demanding afternoon that they saw each other.

The whole day, a feeling of guilt had been tugging at Emma's stomach. She hardly ever fought with Will, and when they did, they make up practically moments later. Though she wasn't sure if their little squabble this morning qualified as a proper fight, she certainly hadn't liked leaving it unresolved.

She was home before Will, so she started dinner, looking resentfully at that carton of milk as she pulled out the ingredient for a salad from the fridge.

Half an hour later with the salad in the fridge and a tray of veggie lasagna in the oven, the front door creaked open as Will entered the apartment.

He looked at her tentatively, unsure of where they stood. She approached him, an unreadable expression on her face, and shocked him by wrapping her arms around his neck as she lifted her chin to kiss him deeply.

"And here I was, expecting you to be all angry with me," Will chuckled once they broke apart.

"I'm sorry, Will," she told him. "I really, you know, overreacted this morning."

"No, Em, I completely understand. It is a bad habit that I'm going to need to break," he assured her, squeezing her hand gently.

"No, Will, you're terrific. Really, you are. I never imagined living with another person could be this easy and enjoyable. This is silly of me—gosh, we don't even drink the same milk, and you've had to make so many other compromises based on my, um, you know, standards…I think it's only fair if I let this one go."

He smiled at her, pulling her close to him. "Thanks, Em. I promise I'll only do it when I'm in a rush—and when you're not around to see me do it."

Emma returned the smile, "That's a comprise I can deal with—though every time I see that milk, I won't be able to help but to think of your little habit…"

"Emma, you are completely impossible," he laughed, lifting her chin so he could place a kiss on her lips. "But it just makes me love you all the more."

* * *

_He got up to clean the bathroom with her at two in the morning. _

Before Will, Emma had dated a total of one and a half guys. The half referred to Trevor, the boy she had dated her senior in high school. She was convinced he only dated her as a charity case—after all, he was a sweet boy and she was the freak who ate her lunch alone while carefully scrubbing every grape before she consumed it.

Though he was sweet, and he was able to help Emma emerge slightly from the protected shell she had created for herself, their relationship didn't last past the hand holding stage. Emma had discovered that he didn't wash his hands after using the bathroom and quickly ended the relationship.

Kevin, her college boyfriend, had been much more serious. They had started dating her sophomore year, and he was surprisingly patient and respectful when it came to her many insecurities. He was the first boy she kissed, and he was the first boy she allowed to touch her more intimately than she had ever allowed before.

They never had sex, and a year into the relationship, Kevin was beginning to get impatient. She'd always tell him she'd be ready soon, but soon never came, and he broke up with her.

Emma was left heart broken and convinced that no man would be able to love her unless she offered him intimacy, so she spent the next years of her life isolating herself from any sort of relationship.

That was until she met Will, and slowly her perception of men began to change.

Will's patience was unfailing. Though there were many times Emma could tell he was annoyed with her, their little tiffs hardly lasted long and the pair always found a compromise that worked for their different views.

The first time they tried to have sex, it was not beautiful or graceful, the way Emma had hoped her first time would be. In fact, Emma had burst into tears only seconds into their love making.

Will had freaked out, frightened that he had hurt her, which only made Emma cry harder. She spent an ungodly amount of time in the shower, and when she had finally emerged with raw skin and her eyes still swollen from her tears, she had refused to discuss it any further with Will.

The weeks after that, Emma was slowly beginning to deteriorate. She was on edge more than she had ever been, and she knew Will's concern was increasing greatly. One drop of jelly on the floor meant she had to clean the entire kitchen. One speck of food found on a dinner plate led to her scrubbing the whole set by hand. She threw away all the drinks in the fridge claiming the lids had not been screwed on tightly enough. She flinched when he touched her unexpectedly, and she cried inconsolably when they retired to bed each night.

He wanted to call a doctor, but even the mention of that idea caused Emma to lock herself in the bathroom for over an hour.

She slept poorly, tossing and turning for hours at a time. Will would try to sing her softly to sleep each time her anxiety skyrocketed, but the sound of his sweet voice only sent around another wave of tears.

It was almost two in the morning when Emma decided that she could not spend another minute staring at the dark ceiling above her. For once, Will slept soundly beside her, exhausted from the many nights in a row she had kept him up.

She padded softly down the hall toward the bathroom, turning on the blaring light as she entered. She took in her appearance in the mirror. Underneath her eyes, heavy dark circles had formed. Her face was thin, brought on by sudden weight loss from her increased anxiety and lack of appetite.

She had only cleaned the bathroom yesterday, but her increased anxiety only made her more anal than usual. Shaking slightly, she dug out the cleaning supplies from under the sink as she vigorously threw herself into the unnecessary cleaning project.

Half an hour later, Will stumbled into the bathroom. "Em?" His eyes widened, pulling him out of his groggy state.

As expected, Emma burst into tears, and Will was unsure whether or not to comfort her or not, unsure if it would make the situation worse.

But she looked so pathetic, crouched over the bathtub with tears streaming down her cheeks, that he couldn't help but to gather her in his arms. He was relieved when she relaxed in his embrace, the tears finally ceasing.

He didn't dare ask what was wrong for fear that she would lose it once again. Instead, he offered to help her clean.

The pair was silent for a while, as the scrubbed at dirt that wasn't even there. Finally, Emma stopped. She watched Will, cleaning the crevices of the toilet with a Q-tip. She bit her lips, unsure of what she had done to deserve a man who loved her this much.

She knew she was being completely unfair, making him suffer through the hell she had put him through these past few weeks.

"I'm sorry, Will."

He looked up at her. Stopped scrubbing. He was silent for what felt like an eternity. "Sorry for what?"

He was much too good for her, and Emma had to bite her lip to refrain from bursting into tears. "Will, I've been awful, and it's not fair of me to put you through this…"

"Em, I'll do _anything _for you. I never want you to feel like anything you're feeling is ridiculous or doesn't matter," he told her, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub beside her.

"Th-that's the problem—Will, why should I expect you to be so good and selfless to me when I can't do the same for you?" A single tear slid down her cheek, and she bit her lip until she tasted blood to stop the others from following.

She dared to look at Will, watching as he carefully thought of how to respond, watching as he finally began to understand. "This is about a couple weeks ago, isn't it? When we, you know…" he trailed off, thinking about their failed attempt at intimacy.

Emma nodded slowly, beginning to fidget with the hem of her nightgown.

"Em, please don't feel bad about that. I'm not angry at you at all, and there's no need for you to feel pressured to do something you're not comfortable doing. I could care less about making sex a part of our relationship—all of that will fall into place in due time. For now, we just need to focus on the things we are comfortable and ready for."

"You know, I spent so many years thinking guys like you didn't exist. My, um, boyfriend from college broke up with me because I, um, wouldn't, um, wouldn't have sex with him…" she trailed off, unable to look at him.

"Oh, Em," Will soothed, pulling her into his arms. "I'm so sorry."

"But it was my fault too—Instead of talking about it with him, I brushed it off until he decided he couldn't wait for me anymore. Will, I'm scared—I'm scared to give myself so fully to someone. To me, it feels, um, it feels sort of like I'm losing control, becoming part of someone so fully, and that scares me."

Emma felt like a burden had been lifted from her back as she said the words. Will didn't speak for a moment. He just held her in his arms, and at that moment, it was enough.

"Thanks for telling me that, Emma," Will finally spoke, helping her up from the edge of the tub. "And don't you ever feel like those reasons are dumb; I just wish I would've understood them earlier. I can promise you, Em, that we're going to take things as slowly you need to."

Emma smiled—the first smile Will had seen in weeks. As the walked back to the bedroom, Emma's eyes began to droop. A lovely drowsiness came over her as she snuggled next to him.

"I'm sorry…for not telling you sooner," she told him as his fingers gently stroked her hair. She fought to keep her eyes open.

"It's okay, Em—that's a hard thing to tell someone, and I just glad you finally did. I want you to know that you can tell me anything."

She smiled, snuggling deeper into his arms. "I love you," she yawned.

And she was asleep before she could even hear him tell her he loved her too.


End file.
